


Do-Over

by lostinthevoid



Category: My Chemical Romance, Pencey Prep
Genre: First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-MCR, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 18:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9915869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinthevoid/pseuds/lostinthevoid
Summary: This was his chance. He could do it, and they wouldn’t even be mad at him. It wouldn’t be his fault.“Do it,” he said, calmly reaching for the gun and moving it to his forehead. Not his fucking fault. No one would ever know. “Do me a favor. Please.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by true events, some very depressive and suicidal thoughts - possibly triggering, proceed at your own caution.
> 
> Completely fictional take on how F and G met before MCR started. Nothing belongs to me.

Gerard stuck his hands deeper into his jacket pockets, bag hanging from his wrist. It wasn’t quite winter, but it was fucking Jersey, and the chill permeated his bones. Fuck Mikey, and his waffle addiction. Then again, Gerard would have gone to the store anyway; his cigarettes had run out two nights ago, and Mikey had bit him the last time he’d tried to bum one. 

Raucous laughter pulled him out of his nicotine craving coma, and he looked up to see a pack of teenagers, whooping and kicking cans. Gerard’s shiver had nothing to do with the cold; teenagers were fucking terrifying. Traffic was too heavy for him to cross, so he ducked into the first alley he could find. ‘Fucking pathetic’, he thought to himself. ‘Can’t face some preteens without thinking you’re gonna shatter. God, just die out of shame, why don’t you.’ 

The light at the end of the two buildings indicated that he could use this as a short cut rather than just a hiding place, so Gerard set off through the dimness, pleased that he had avoided a possible encounter. Any sort of interaction nowadays left him raw and trembling, and he did not need to cry in front of any strangers tonight. 

“Pathetic,” he muttered to himself, blinking back tears. 

“Give me your wallet, now.” Hands pushed him against a wall, and Gerard felt something cold and hard pressed into the base of his neck. ‘And to top this night off...’ he sighed, internally.

“Give it to me, now!’ The voice trembled, and jerked the gun into his neck, but Gerard felt himself turning, his hands going up. His attacker was shrouded in shadow, but he could see that the guy was shorter than him. Fucking great. 

“Look man, give me your fucking wallet. Do you want me to shoot you?” The attacker said, shoving the gun into Gerard’s throat. The violence of the shove brought clarity to his mind like nothing had ever done before. This was his chance. He could do it, and they wouldn’t even be mad at him. It wouldn’t be his fault.

“Do it,” he said, calmly reaching for the gun and moving it to his forehead. Not his fucking fault. No one would ever know. “Do me a favor. Please.”

His mugger stared back at him, shadowed eyes growing large and his hand shaking slightly. Gerard felt hysteria bubbling up in his throat, and he coughed to get rid of it.

“I need you to kill me, please,” he said, his voice dropping so it could barely be heard. They were close enough to be heard by the guy though. Tears threatened the corners of his eyes, and he could only glance up at the sky to throw an errant apology to Elena. She would be so pissed. The gun shifted against his head and brought Gerard’s attention back to the guy, who spoke for the first time since his request.

“What the fuck, man?” he didn’t sound angry, or desperate, anymore, just curious. “Why the hell would you want that?” Gerard’s head dropped a little, the hysteria coming back and spilling out as he began to laugh.

“Why not?” he shot back, through increasingly tear-filled giggles, “I’m useless, my life fucking sucks, no one would miss me...” he paused to look back at the shadowy face of his attacker, hysterics subsiding. 

“There’s just no point, anymore,” he finished quietly, eyes closing and muscles tightening. He heard a rustle, felt the gun push harder against his forehead and then - 

“I’m not killing you, dude,” his attacker said, and Gerard opened his eyes to see that he had lowered the gun and had taken a step forward, bringing his shadowed face into the light. ‘He’s beautiful’ Gerard thought to himself, and then shook his head slightly because that was an odd thing to think about a mugger with a gun. 

His legs suddenly refused to work and he felt himself falling, but arms circled his waist, holding him up before he hit the ground. 

“But you,” Gerard tried to croak out, his voice abandoning him in his time of morbid need, “but you were going to hurt me. Why not? What fucking difference would it make?” The tears came gushing back and he found himself clinging onto the guy, sobs shaking his entire body. Typical Gerard: bare your soul to a person who was trying to mug you and then cry in their arms.

“Man, you picked a winner to try and attack. I should give you my shit to just apologise for this bullshit.” The guy moved his right arm from Gerard’s waist to cup his head and stroke it gently. This was the weirdest thing that had ever happened to Gerard, hands down. 

“Shut up,” The man whispered furiously into his ear, hot breath steaming up Gerard’s neck, “Just shut up. I’m sorry for mugging you. You’re the first person I’ve ever done it to and it was dumb. I just needed money to pay back my weed guy, I’m a fucking idiot, I never should have scared you so much.” The man pulled him even closer, and in their weird kneeling position this meant he basically pulled him into his lap. Gerard hiccup-sobbed, and this brought back the stroking hand that carefully dug its way through his greasy hair. 

“Nothing is worth your life, you hear me?” The guy pulled on his hair to bring his head far back enough for their eyes to meet. Gerard was struck again by how pretty he was, long dark hair, light eyes, pale skin. “No matter how bad it is, people care about you, somewhere, right?”

Gerard suddenly remembered,

“Mikey, fuck.” Mikey would be terrified, right about now. Gerard had only stepped out to get some waffles and smokes, he should have been back at the house by now. The guy nodded seriously and Gerard suddenly burst out laughing.

“Why the hell is my mugger giving me anti-suicide life advice?? You’re fucking insane.” The guy smiled slightly, and Gerard felt an inappropriate flutter in the region of his stomach. He was not getting a crush on his attacker. That really would be crazy. Stockholm syndrome crazy. Or something.

“I made a mistake.” The guy replied, letting go of Gerard’s hair and carefully unwinding himself from his waist. Gerard shuffled back, feeling unbalanced. Now that he has been staring at him for a while, he had a realization.

“Holy shit,” he said, peering forward, “How old are you?”

The guy winced and got out a cigarette, before lighting up with a shrug. 

“Seventeen. You?” he said, nonchalantly, but Gerard noticed his hands were still shaking. 

“Twenty-two.” He blinked, and then blinked again. “Shit, you’re a minor.” 

The guy nodded again, and Gerard tried to shake his head clear of the chaos that had flooded it. This guy was a minor and he had held him at gunpoint. Gerard had begged him to shoot him and this fucker was ridiculously pretty. And illegal. So illegal. All of it was illegal. 

“It’s not-“ The guy rubbed his free hand over his face, cigarette slowly ashing by itself in the other, “It’s not even a real gun. Just something real looking. I’m a fucking idiot.” Gerard was inclined to agree. 

“You really shouldn’t be doing drugs. You’re short already, they’re gonna stunt your growth even more.” God could he sound more like a mother hen? 

“Fuck you,” the guy said with no venom, “But I think you’re right. This is crazy. And it isn’t for me. I’m lucky I chose you instead of someone else, otherwise I would have... Instead...” He paused, taking a final drag of his smoke, flicking it away, and rising to his knees to blow the smoke in Gerard’s face. “Instead I got you. Funny, isn’t it?”

Gerard could see absolutely nothing funny about this situation. He was attracted to this fucking child who had tried to mug him, who knew he was incredibly suicidal. The situation had spiraled into Wonderland proportions of ridiculousness. He had to get out. 

“Yeah, funny.” he answered shortly, waving the smoke out of his face and slowly getting up, his entire body protesting. He felt like he’d been hit by a truck. 

“Hey, hey,” the guy caught his elbow as Gerard swayed a little. Stupid adrenaline wearing off. He pulled his elbow away, now seriously needing to get away. He didn’t know how to deal with this bullshit. This was exactly why he didn’t go outside, because he always ended up in surreal situations that even normal people wouldn’t know how to deal with. 

“Leave me alone,” he muttered, trying to feebly get away. The guy rolled his eyes, and grabbed Gerard’s elbow more firmly. 

“Look dude, you’re obviously in no state to be alone right now. Can I walk you home? To... Mikey?” For a seventeen-year-old-would-be-criminal this guy didn’t know when to stop. Gerard wrenched his elbow away from him again, and spun around to fix him with his best glare, the one that always worked, even on Mikey.

“You need to leave me the fuck alone, before I call the cops,” he spat out, now entirely done. The guy stared solemnly back at him. “Go home, rethink your fucking life, rethink your choices, and stop offering advice to people who don’t fucking need it. Get out of the fucking drug bullshit before it ruins your life. Or don’t, I don’t give a fuck. Just leave alone.” Gerard let his words hang in the air before turning on his heel and forcing himself to march away back through the alley. It felt strangely difficult to leave, but he resisted glancing over his shoulder. 

‘This never happened.’ he told himself firmly. 

“Wait!” The shout came from behind him and Gerard let out a wounded noise of frustration and spun around. Why wouldn’t this fucking kid leave him the fuck -

“Wait,” the guy jogged up to him, holding a bag. His bag. Full of waffles and cigarettes. “You forgot your groceries.” Gerard stared stupidly at the bag until the guy reached out with his free hand to shake his shoulder. “You sure you’re okay?”

Gerard felt his anger deflate. 

“Of course I’m not okay.” he answered quietly, taking his bag. He was so tired. The hand on his shoulder squeezed, a warm counterpoint to his rapidly freezing body. 

“I’m really sorry. For everything.” the guy sounded sincere but tears clouded Gerard’s vision again so he couldn’t see his face. He shook his head. 

“No,” he whispered, “It was horrible but I- thanks, uh,” he sniffed, scrubbing at his face with a sleeve, “Thanks for the wake up call, I guess.” For the second time that night the guy grabbed Gerard and drew him in for a tight hug. 

“No, stop it,” the boy’s low voice sounded warm in his ear, “You’re going through a shitty time right now, and I’m sorry for making it worse. You’re kind of incredible, with everything. Just promise me,” he sounded a little more desperate, clung a little tighter, “Promise me you won’t kill yourself. Please.” 

Gerard was more than a little stunned, but all he could do was reply,

“I’ll try.”

The boy pulled back, smiling. 

“I’m gonna do better too. Next time you’ll see me, we’ll both be better.” Gerard laughed, genuine amusement spilling out of him. 

“What the hell makes you think we’re ever going to meet again?” 

The boy’s grin widened. ‘What a weird fucking person,’ Gerard thought to himself. 

“Call it intuition. We’re not done, not yet.” He squeezed Gerard’s shoulders again before letting go. Gerard felt the absence of his hands quite keenly. The boy started off in the opposite direction. Gerard called after him,

“See you around, you fucking weirdo!” He turned his head back to Gerard, a sunny smile lighting up his young face. He answered,

“See you later, beautiful!” Gerard blinked in response, and a second later the boy had vanished into the alley gloom. ‘Beautiful?’

Gerard turned around, once again, and set off, once again, in the direction of home. Weirdly, he felt much better than he had done before the attack. Mikey would never believe this. And perhaps he didn’t need to know. What had happened was so fucking weird. It was nice. God, he was a freak, but maybe that was okay. As he emerged onto the main road, he repeated what he had thought before, only this time with a smile.

‘This never happened.’ 

 

*Three years later*

 

The last three years had been shit. 

“Are you ready motherfuckers!” 

But not everything was bad. Finally, finally, things were looking up. He had a band. With Mikey, smelly Otter, and the best guitar shredder in Jersey, Ray motherfucking Toro. He had a band and he finally felt things were going right, in a way that Cartoon Network or even art school never had. 

But they’d been recording and practicing in Gerard’s attic, and it wasn’t ideal. They needed space. Practice space. Of course his brother had a solution. Someone called ‘Frank’ and ‘Pencey Prep’ and that they were ‘fucking awesome’, and perhaps that they were the band to know. Local, up-and-coming, their kind of music. When Mikey had told him they were going to a gig, Gerard knew it would be stupid to not go. 

Now Gerard was staring up at the lead singer of the Pencey. He no longer had long dark hair, or pale skin - no, those had been replaced with pretty fucking awful dreads and tattoos curling over young arms. He had grown up, somewhat, and was now thrashing around on the stage, screaming his guts out about break ups and angst and drugs. He was still beautiful. 

“That’s Frank!” Mikey yelled in his ear as the crowds jumped and moshed around them. Of course it was Frank. Of course this was Gerard’s life. His dirty little secret, that wasn’t really dirty, more distressing, had come back, just like it said it would. 

The song ended, and Frank grabbed some water, taking a few gulps but spitting the rest at the crowd, who screamed for more. He grinned out into the black, and Gerard felt a flutter of something in his gut. 

“You motherfuckers having a good time tonight?” Frank’s voice was raw from the screaming, and his eyes were bright as they trailed over the people in the club. As the sound surged, Gerard suddenly felt Frank’s eyes on him, and everything stopped. That beautiful boy smiled even wider, as sunny as Gerard remembered it. 

“Do you believe in second chances?” Frank called out, the crowd responding in its own way. Gerard knew that that had been aimed at him. “Do you believe in destiny?” Gerard swallowed, and looked to the side, to gather his thoughts away from this fucking weird, magnetizing, gorgeous man. 

“Do you,” Frank’s voice got low, but that only decreased the volume in the whole place. Everyone seemingly held their breath as they waited for him to continue. Gerard looked back and was hit by the full force of Frank’s gaze, whose smile had dimmed. He swallowed, looking nervous for the first time that night, and tried again.

“Do you believe that mistakes can be forgiven?” The club had almost completely stopped all movement, and everyone on stage stared at their vocalist. Gerard had never felt so much pressure, but he knew there was only one thing he could do. He wanted that practice space. He wanted to know Pencey. He fucking wanted to know Frank, as intimately as he would allow. 

Gerard nodded. Frank’s face broke into a massive smile. 

“Alright, then!” he turned back to the band, voice sounding thick. “This goes out to close calls and second chances!” He spun around, grin now manic, and Gerard couldn’t help but smile in return. “I’m never saying goodbye to you!” And he was off. 

After the show, Mikey pulled Gerard backstage. He glanced at his brother. 

“Are they always so...” Mikey looked at him, raising an eyebrow like only he could. 

“Emotional?” he guessed. “Not really. Frank’s an angry little punk, only got angrier when he stopped smoking weed years ago.” Mikey smiled and Gerard looked at his brother curiously. 

“He has dreads, and he doesn’t even smoke pot?” Gerard asked, disbelieving. 

“He had an experience,” Mikey answered, now quiet. “He’s really great Gee. Likes the same shit we do. Passionate about the music, a really good player. Doesn’t take shit, but doesn’t start shit... Oh, speak of the devil,” he finished, as Frank bounded out of some doorway. 

“Mikeyway!” he exclaimed, as he tackled Mikey with a flying hug. Surprisingly, his twig of a brother didn’t buckle, but then Frank really was tiny. “I haven’t seen you in forever you fucker, where’ve you been?” Frank looked at Gerard, and the smile was back on his face. Mikey noticed immediately, the fuck, and Gerard already knew he’d be getting shit later. 

“This is my brother, Gerard,” Mikey motioned as Frank hopped off him, to reach around and grab Gerard’s shoulder. ‘Worth it’ Gerard thought, as warmth spread through his body.

“Nice to meet you, Gerard.” Frank said, sounding quietly amused. Feeling bold, Gerard reached out to tug at Frank’s dreads. 

“Nice to meet you too, Frank.” They stared at each other until Mikey cleared his throat. 

“So, Frankie, I’ve got a demo that I think you really need to listen to.” Frank squeezed Gerard’s shoulder and tore his eyes away from him. 

“A demo?” he asked, perfect eyebrows furrowing perfectly. Gerard was fucked. 

“For a band called My Chemical Romance.” Mikey glanced at Gerard, but he couldn’t look away from Frank. “I’m the bassist.”

“Fuck yes, Mikeyway.” He trailed his hand down Gerard’s arm to grab his hand. 

“You in this?” he asked, moving closer to Gerard’s overheating body. He resisted the urge to shudder, and smirked instead, answering,

“Baby, its my band.” Frank looked like all his Christmases had come at once. 

“Fuck YES,” he grabbed Gerard’s other hand and circled Gerard’s arms around him to place them on Frank’s ass. They leaned in close, and ignored Mikey who left with an exasperated sigh. Frank nudged his nose, and who the fuck was Gerard kidding, he was a goner. 

“This is so fucking weird,” he muttered, as he leaned in for a kiss. Frank stopped a hairbreadths away from his lips. 

“I told you we’d meet again,” he murmured quietly, “Once I was better.”

“I thought it was once we were both better?” Gerard murmured back, restraining his hands from digging into Frank ass like he wanted to. Frank looked to a side, breaking their intense eye contact. He looked angry.

“I was the dumbest seventeen year old. So fucking stupid. You were already perfect, Mikeyway’s artistic, older brother. Just lost.” Gerard leaned back a little, to bring Frank’s face back into focus. 

“Wait, hold up,” he said, grabbing Frank’s chin and forcing him to meet his eyes again. “You knew who I was?”

Frank looked slightly guilty, and he swallowed. 

“I put it together later. I knew Mikey back then, and I...” Frank shifted, but didn’t move away, his bravado slipping by the second. “I might have seen your picture in his room, a few months later. Mikey always wanted us to meet, said we’d get along like a house on fire but-“ Gerard interrupted here, tired of all of it. 

“But it was too soon, you were still a stoner douche with shitty morals, and you had to become better, alright Frank, I get it.” Frank looked a little surprised at the outburst, but relaxed as soon as Gerard let go of his chin and grabbed his ass with both hands to pull them flush together. “Enough. Past is past. You were a cunt, I was a moron, we were both really fucked up. Now fucking kiss me already.”

Frank reached up and tangled his hands in Gerard’s hair, bringing him down to Frank’s level but still not kissing him. He gazed up at Gerard hopefully. 

“This is a do-over, right?” Gerard flexed his fingers, digging them into Frank’s ass. 

“Yeah, its a fucking do-over. It never happened,” he answered gruffly.

“Excellent,” Frank replied, and closed the gap to kiss Gerard, soft and gentle, a counterpoint to everything that had happened between them up until this point. Gerard enjoyed it for a moment, sweat under his nose, ass under grabby fingers, before he licked the seam of his mouth and nipped at his bottom lip. Frank groaned and opened his mouth, which turned their sweet kiss into a dirty, vicious makeout session. Gerard didn’t even notice how Frank had backed them up against a wall until it slammed into his back and he had to pull back for air. 

“Mikey,” he wheezed, “The demo... fuck!” he swore as Frank bit down on his pulse point, turning Gerard into a whimpering mess. Then, his hands disentangled themselves from Gerard’s hair, and gently brushed down lint and wrinkles that made him look utterly indecent. Frank stepped back, and offered Gerard his hand, something painfully soft in his gaze. Without hesitating, Gerard took his hand. He was ready to finally be happy. Frank smiled, and his entire stomach flipped, as he carefully ushered Gerard down the grimy club corridor. 

“Let’s go listen to your music, baby.”

**Author's Note:**

> Woah, the first fic I've ever posted on AO3.


End file.
